Saturday, October 12, 2002



So starts the beginning of the second book of the trilogy dealing with Nemesis.
Also had my first publisher rejection for Nemesis. Not that it was an awful heart-breaking experience, they just told me that they aren't accepting submissions. Oh well. On to more publishers and/or agents to be rejected by. I'm starting to think I should include a photograph with my novel, then maybe whoever opens the envelope will either be astounded by my presence or disgusted by my goth-ness. During this debate, the head person will walk by and say, "My GOD, she's exactly what we are looking for!"

And that is how I wish it was to become a published author. :)

So far the folks who I sent a copy of Nemesis to said it was amazing. All good reviews. I even put in an AWESOME club scene that's set in the old Limelight of NYC. Pre-Ghouliani days, when it was still amazing and, well, open.

The sad thing is, this second book that I'm starting the rewrite on now, Lamia, is even BETTER than Nemesis. And the THIRD book is even better than both of them (it's called The Tower). Still making up my mind if there's going to be a fourth book to the trilogy. Kind of a Douglas Adams move, I know, but oh well. As it is, there's stories IN the stories to begin with.

I wasn't far into writing Nemesis, the original version, in my senior year of high school in the LOVELY year of 1993 (did I mention I HATED high school?) So anyway, wasn't far into the story when I started to HEAR the main character in my head. As if my own suspicions of being crazy weren't bad enough, now they were founded. I finished the original draft in nine months, and it FELT like I gave birth after that, believe me. My teachers looked it over and all agreed it was a very skippy story. I agreed and put it in The Vault. It didn't come out again until 1995, when I was cleaning out some stuff under my bed at my parents' house and came across the manuscript. I had actually forgotten all about it at that point and I brought it back to college to read through it. Then I got engaged. The manuscript lounged around various parts of my dorm room until my ex-fiance found it. He said a few derogatory words about it and threw it under my dorm bed. I was hurt, and once again, left the manuscript where it stayed until my ex-fiance and I broke up.

It's amazing how pain and suffering can actually enhance focus sometimes. A broken heart can put out a damned good novel. It was all I concentrated on for a long time. There even came out of me a comic book and a screenplay based on the story, along with a sequel to the novel. Funny thing is, my final rewrite came based on that comic book I had made of the original story back in 1996.

So now, 2002 rolls around. Nemesis has begun the circuit of publishers/agents, Lamia is starting a fresh rewrite, and The Tower is soon to follow.

I look back at all I've done and I start to wonder if maybe I've actually DONE something with my life, afterall.

Thursday, October 10, 2002



Wow... where to begin? I guess the first part would be what I like to call.....


Been MIA because I've been on the road. We went to Miami and Ft. Lauderdale, stayed in South Beach at a lovely hotel called The Park Central, which was right across the street from the beach. We could see the ocean from our room window, and hear it when we opened the windows.

So everything's going wonderfully on our lil trip. We splurged BIGTIME and ordered room service, which was amazing, and enjoyed the room. Mostly the KINGSIZE bed. What a wonderful thing THAT was.

The next morning we get up in time for the sunrise, we take pictures and play tourists. We walk along the beach and collect things that look like coral, feel like a sponge, and smell like mushrooms. We put these things into the drycleaning bag from the room, along with some very disappointing sea shells. I hate to say it, but New Jersey's beaches are a lot nicer than the ones in Miami, Florida. Better shells, too. So anyway, walking along the beach, collecting the skeletons of the sea, then decide to go for breakfast. We head back to the room, shower and change, and leave THE BAG on the dresser. Breakfast was wonderful. Got to eat in earshot of the ocean. An hour later we head back to the room. And that's when we notice it. THE SMELL.

It was subtle at first, sure... but as we packed, we closed in on THE BAG, and the smell grew stronger. Kind of smelled like something died. Without thinking I grabbed THE BAG, and it unwound, releasing its foul stench. I gagged. Dante laughed at me as I ran for the bathroom, then opened the bag and took a whiff. He started to dry heave. Why is it that as the 'advanced' species, we tend to explore with great zeal that which nauseates our co-inhabitants? Yet another case of 'Honey, is this bad?'

Then Dante made THE DECLARATION: How about you pick the shells you absolutely CAN'T live without and we leave the rest here?

So now I had to OPEN the bag of death and pick through it. One tends to get a really good grip on what is truly necessary when one is holding their breath and trying not to vomit. Out of a bag of shells and things, I took home two pieces of coral. Two SMALL pieces of coral. It's better this way. I know this now. All the money in the world couldn't have made me clean that room after we left that bag wrapped up in the garbage.

And now for the second part....


So these past few days I've been playing housewife without the house and without being a wife, which I guess makes me an apartmentwench. Either way, as if being a SMILING goth wasn't enough to cast me out of the goth community, now I'm blonde AND have been going in the sun. I have the most unfashionable non-goth thing of all: TAN LINES. Faint, but more than I've had since I was a kid. Believe me, I'm as shocked as anyone.

So on my walk to the pool yesterday, I saw it. A car that had my name written alll over it. A 1985 Volkswagon Cabriolet (aka Rabbit) Convertible Wolfsburg Edition. And the price is right. I would need to get a driver's license, of course, as well as driving goggles. Maybe even driving gloves....

The cool thing is that it's my size. I'm not a person of stature, in fact I'm damned near vertically challenged, so a nice cute small car is exactly what I need. Who knew I could find the car I always wanted in the parking lot of my apartment complex? Or did the perfect car find me???